The Dark Glory War (20 page)

We located the sign in other places, carved into a lintel, scratched onto a post, and followed the signs as we might follow game. Finally we came to a closed doorway with a narrow, sealed peephole in it. I knocked on the door and the small window opened. Someone looked out and said, “Do you understand your business here?”

I touched my hand to my brow, then lowered it with my palm up and open.

The doorslit clicked shut, then the door itself opened. The three of us entered, then headed down a small corridor toward a robed man beckoning us onward. He led us to a small chamber where we were given brown cloaks, then he had us write our names in a massive visitor’s tome. Leigh signed with a flourish, I didn’t waste as much ink, and Nay drew the symbol he’d always stamped onto the weapons he’d made.

Our guide offered us a quick tour of the Yslin Phoenix Knights’ Hall and the three of us followed in silence. The Grand Hall ran much deeper than the one in Valsina, with all the amphitheatre rows faced with white marble. The chamber’s domed ceiling was upheld by two dozen marble pillars and had been painted with a huge mural depicting the life cycle of the Phoenix. The rebirth of the Phoenix took place over the area where new recruits would be brought in, or so I surmised.

Beyond that chamber lay a series of smaller rooms suited for meetings, and a dining hall that looked as if it could seat three hundred people at a time. A kitchen adjoined it, and then back behind the left side of the Grand Hall we ran through a complex of even smaller rooms that had been set up to house visiting Knights. Completing our circuit we moved over to the area behind the right side of the Grand Hall and found ourselves in a gallery very much like the one we’d seen in Kedyn’s temple.

Here there were legions of statues, most very small, but a dozen or so life-sized and set in alcoves of their own. Candles flickered before all of them and incense burned by a few. Many of them looked like those in the temple, but I couldn’t identify for certain any of the ones I’d seen before. Even so, the martial nature of the poses was the same.

I scratched at the back of my neck. “Forgive me …” I faltered for a name and decided to use an honorific that could not offend. “… Master, but we saw a gallery like this in Kedyn’s temple and don’t understand.”

He held his hand up. “The reason you are here is to learn so you may understand.” He led us back around to the meeting rooms and appropriated an empty one. He indicated we should sit in the blocky wooden chairs, then he dropped to the floor with his robe puddling around his folded legs.

“All three of you are aware that nearly two millennia ago, a vast conquering army swept out of the Wastes—which once included what are now the Black Marches—and conquered most of the known world. They established the Estine Empire, of which even Oriosa was a province. For many centuries the Estine Emperors ruled wisely and well, though a thousand years ago the Man-urZrethi War showed that the aristocracy was not capable of acquitting the duties they owed the Emperor. He swept the old order aside and rewarded the leaders who had led the fighting with title and land, creating a new nobility.

“Two and a half centuries later, Kirun led his Aurolani horde down from the north, wielding the power given him by his DragonCrown, and laid waste to the Empire’s central provinces, including your Oriosa. The people, aided by the elves and urZrethi, beat him back—but again the aristocracy had proven inept. Instead of sweeping them aside as his predecessor had done centuries before, the Emperor sent troops to put down the provincial revolts.”

I nodded, being fairly familiar with the history of Oriosa from this point forward. It was during this time of unrest that Oriosans, Murosons, and Alosans—the people of the central provinces that had suffered the most—took the mask in what we call the Great Revolt. Imperial authority was overthrown and our nations declared themselves independent. They formed the Confederation, pledging themselves to defend each other, and that sort of unity survived to this day.

Our instructor continued. “The Emperor’s brother, Valentine, saw disaster in what his brother was doing. He staged his own rebellion, ousting his brother. The Emperor, Balanicus, fled to Madasosa in Reimancia, claiming the eastern half of the Empire was the only legitimate government on the continent. Sebcia, Bilasia, Reimancia, and Viarca all consider themselves still to be the Estine Empire.

“Valentine, in turn, granted autonomy to the western provinces, but united them in the Valentine League. He ruled it until he died, and the League throne has never had a successor. The League’s rulers maintain ambassadors in each other’s capitals, with a Council sitting for a year in each of the capitals on a rotating basis. The Council is led by the local ruler, but only a Grand Council, one of all the rulers, could ever elect a new Valentine Emperor.”

My understanding of the history of that time did not paint so beneficent a picture of Valentine, since his first effort at securing the League’s borders involved trying to establish them somewhere north of Muroso and west of Reimancia, though his armies found moving through Oriosa rather difficult. As the story goes, his generals decided they thought the Oriosan countryside was beautiful, but they had no real desire to spend eternity there, so they returned to Saporcia and Al-cida.

What Valentine had done, which was very important, was to shatter the DragonCrown and scatter the pieces. All the nations that had contributed armies to the effort to defeat Kirun were rewarded for their efforts by being given a portion of the DragonCrown, if they wanted one. The remaining pieces were housed in Fortress Draconis, which Valentine established, built, and garrisoned. He used mostly League troops, but companies from all over the world have spent time there as part of the garrison.

“Many people came to see Valentine as a god for all he had done, but he refused that honor. He said he was but a man who might possess some godly attributes, but his true value was in showing men and women that the attainment of godly virtues merely required dedication, prayer, and works that brought one closer to the virtues themselves.

“Upon his death it was revealed that the gods themselves had smiled upon him and raised him to be more than a man. Not quite a godling, but certainly more thanweirun, he became a patron for those who sought the virtues he represented. Likewise the gods accepted into his legion of followers those who attained virtuous status, and their representations are revered by families and the hopeful alike. These galleries are devoted to those individuals who have attained this exalted status. Those represented here were Phoenix Knights, and those in Kedyn’s Temple were consecrated to him. The priests inform people—the families, usually—of the elevation of someone who has passed on when the gods themselves reveal this information to them.”

I recall a chill running down my spine as our teacher told this story. Somewhat irrationally I began to wonder if the League had not gained special favor with the gods such that such great and miraculous things were revealed to their priests, but denied to ours. It was not until I was much older, and decidedly more cynical, that I wondered if the “revelations” were used as a means to bind wealthy families more closely to one temple than another, and to get them to spend money to guarantee the proper veneration of their dead ancestor would continue. Some families even went so far as to pay for the outfitting, training, and upkeep of army companies that fought beneath the banners of their ancestors, which took a great deal of pressure off local governments to maintain troops.

Later when I mentioned to Nay my wondering if Oriosans were doing something wrong, he just shook his head. “Leaguers need the extra help—the gods know we get it right from the start.”

The chill running down my spine also started me thinking about whether or not I would ever be worthy of being elevated to such status. I needed barely a glance to tell that Leigh was long lost in that sort of musing. I knew his father would be worthy, and I thought my father would be as well, but the two of us? I could hope that what we had done so far would have pleased the gods enough to accept us. But if acceptance could be purchased that easily, perhaps the honor was not that great in the first place.

I should also point out that just because Oriosa does not have galleries featuring statues of our ancestors in every temple, it does not mean we do not revere the memories of those who have gone before. The masks our ancestors have worn are preserved and displayed on the anniversaries of their deaths.

We tell stories about them and hold them dear, but we don’t treat them as godlets.

Our instructor told us more, including how the Knights of the Phoenix got their start in the aftermath of the Man-ur-Zrethi War, and came into its power with the Empire’s dissolution. Valentine had been a Phoenix Knight, rising to the rank of Greater Eyre Master, which I gather is about as far as anyone can go in the society. He showed us a couple more hand signals, like the command to follow and the command to take something—including the overt and covert variations. He then took us back to the gallery, let us burn incense before the statue of Valentine—who was said to embody all of the Martial Virtues—then had us return the robes to him and sent us on our way.

Upon our return to the inn we met Leigh’s father. He seemed a bit impatient, but allowed us to eat some bread and cheese and a little roasted pork before he headed us back to Fortress Gryps. “I have already heard of what you did this morning, at the festival and while I would have forbidden it had I been there, it turns out it was for the best. It transformed you from mere moonmasked youths into warriors of no mean ability, which provides some with a different picture of what we faced at Atval.”

On our return to Fortress Gryps, we were again taken into the Grand Hall, but no longer was it arranged as a place for a celebration. A number of fairly plain tables had been arranged in a rather large circle around the center of the room. Each table had a banner hung behind it identifying the nation represented and the arms of the individuals seated there. Back behind each delegation more chairs were arranged. Very few were occupied, and they seemed mostly reserved for advisors to the royals seated at the tables themselves.

We were seated behind Queen Lanivette, her son, daughter, and Chamberlain. Princess Ryhope turned and looked at us as we sat. She gave Leigh a warm smile. He returned it, adding a wink, which brought a blush to her cheeks.

Her brother, Scrainwood, likewise watched us take our seats. Of him, by me, perhaps the less said is best, but I cannot omit him from this chronicle because of the major part he played in it. He was as handsome as his sister was beautiful, though they looked little alike. He was thirteen years older than she, making him a year shy of twice my age. Tall and lean, though not quite as tall as me, he had brown hair and hazel eyes which to me seemed a bit tight set together.

I didn’t know that much about him at the time. He had married, I knew, as did anyone in Oriosa who had celebrated his wedding and the birth of his two sons. They were years yet from taking the mask, and remained with their mother in Meredo. She was a princess from Muroso and the marriage was political, though her acceptance of it was more gracious than his.

As I sat, my eyes met his for the first time—he’d not even wasted a glance at me the night before when I was attending Lord Norrington as his aide. I knew from that moment that he did not like me, nor I him. I don’t know why this enmity sprang up at a glance, but a hateful fire had ignited in him the moment he recognized I existed.

Directly across from us sat the Alcidese delegation, with Prince Augustus attending his father, Penesius. Other delegations sat beneath the banners of the nations of the Valentine League, and around to the left Okrannel was represented. Reimancia represented the Estine Empire, Haorra the Ancient Union, and Jentellin sat beneath a scintillating banner with red Elvish lettering running down one edge.

King Penesius stood. “It appears, good Queen Lanivette, your marvelous young warriors have arrived.”

The queen did not stir, but Duke Larner turned to us and indicated we should stand, which we did. Lord Norrington stood with us.

The Alcidese leader smiled. “We have heard from Lord Norrington of the deeds you have performed. We have been told that in the Black City of Atval you destroyed a force numbering over two hundred gibberkin. You must understand that we all agree your battle must have been horrible, and your surviving it speaks well of you, but it stretched credulity for many of us to believe that so few were able to stand against ten times their number and survive. Could what we have been told possibly be true?”

I had no idea how to answer that question, but Leigh did not shy from it in the least. “Your Majesties, I do not know what tale you have been told by my father, but because I know my father, I will assume he told it with undue modesty concerning his part in it, and his pride in us may have exaggerated our roles. Oriosa, as everyone knows, faced the urZrethi invasion, Kirun’s invasion, then a century ago, Kree’chuc’s invasion. Our nation, by necessity, trains its warriors well and young to deal with Aurolani threats. Perhaps more remarkable thanour survival, and that of some of our companions, is that eleven of the people who rode with us did not survive. Truth be told, we do not know how many enemies we faced. Our scouts’ last count numbered them at two hundred, but there could have been more, or a few less. In a battle for survival, one does not have time to count the dead.”

Nay and I just nodded as Leigh spoke.

King Penesius’ brown eyes shrank. “Bravely spoken words, but they hardly answer my question. Is the threat you report credible?”

Leigh lifted his chin, which displayed Ryhope’s scarf for all to see. “One or two or five or twenty or two hundred gibberkin does not matter. You all acknowledge that we fought them, but this question is akin to asking a man who says he was rained upon to guess at the number of raindrops that hit him. I can tell you, we were soaked in the blood of our enemies and our friends. It matters not how many gibberkin we fought, how many temeryces were slain, but that we fought them in Oriosa and on our way here. More importantly, the ones we met in Atval clearly were bent on stopping us from reaching Yslin. If you fail to interpret that sign correctly, then I predict it will rain, rain hard, and flood sufficiently that all of us will be washed away.”